stay frosty in poetry

Revised: 11/29/2016 9:33 p.m.

  • Nov. 29, 2015, 1:13 p.m.
  • |
  • Public

frosty the snowman was on the run from death, this much was clear
the subtext was his desperation to cram all the experiences of a life
into, no pun intended, his one day in the sun
trying to fit it into too short a window
trying to make sense of it all along the way

but frosty the snowman was by design a jolly happy soul
that’s what he was created to be, a plaything for small kids
it was part and parcel in the simplicity of his make
so he had to couch the despair in a child’s terms but
make no mistake, frosty the snowman was in a frenzy
to try and experience the life he was built to mimic
frantic to experience everything before he’d melt away
but the smile was literally drawn on his face by a mitten
so he had to rage within that context still make no mistake

frosty the snowman was an existential crisis
locked in the body of an imaginary friend
by the unintended cruelty of children’s magic
to act his fevered search out in the guise of play

frosty had a mouth the tracing of a finger
he had to scream and yet could not so frosty ran
down to the village with a broomstick in his hand
daring the kids to catch him if they can but really he was talking to death
really he was talking to himself, grim fairy-tale, silk hat for a third-eye
dancing around as a dervish cast from a wish thumping his chest in terror and pride
trying to do anything he could to understand or at least leave some kind of a mark
jumping into other stories to pose as clergy, marry off young lovers
his need so great it became meta-textual
no one holiday standard could contain his swansong
yet even at the end, compelled to pretend he would be resurrected
so the kids wouldn’t have their long lives ruined by the tragedy of his short one
melting like tears in the rain when the sun-god told him it was time to die

march into the village and laugh and play and love
don’t let those fucking cops tell you any different
a day’s a pretty short time to live but so are seventy or eighty years
do it in his memory, that momentary searcher trapped in a thoughtless parable
you get more time than he did
you get at least a little more time than frosty did
so do it up while you can
just before you melt away
stay frosty


Last updated November 29, 2016


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